


Begin Again

by bbethyl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Begin Again, F/M, Inspired by a Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbethyl/pseuds/bbethyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“begin again” (2013) au; coming out of a rough breakup, singer-songwriter beth finds herself lost in a new city, while daryl, a struggling record label executive, is lost in a familiar city</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this on and off ever since i saw begin again over a year ago. i dont know yet if i want to continue (it depends on how this does) but i cant think about begin again!bethyl without crying, so. here we are. :-) 
> 
> (also, go ahead and listen to keira knightley sing "a step you can't take back" on youtube or spotify or whatever for the full effect)

_Here comes the rain, so hold your hat_  
_And don’t pray to God, cause He won’t talk back_  
_Are you ready for the last act?_  
_To take a step you can’t take back_

“So you find yourself on the subway with the world in a bag by your side…” 

Beth gave her guitar a final strum, and finally looked up at the crowded bar. There were a few polite claps, but most of the audience looked completely and utterly uninterested, all either immersed in their own conversations or focused entirely too much on the drinks in their hands. She glanced warily over at Glenn, who was giving her a supportive smile and a big thumbs up. At least somebody approved. 

The world was a little bit shit, Beth decided. She didn’t want to be in this bar, she didn’t want to be in New York, and if she was being honest, a small part of her didn’t even want to be alive. 

It wasn’t just the fact that her boyfriend, wait, scratch that, ex-boyfriend, became a super mega popstar and left her struggling in the shadows. Or the fact that he was currently making a living off of songs that she wrote. Or even the fact that he cheated on her with some high up music executive during a “work” related Los Angeles trip and completely shattered her heart.

The part that killed her at the end of the day was the fact that Beth had to go through all of this in New York, miles and miles away from her home and family and life back in Georgia. She was dealing with the worst heartbreak of her life in a city she barely knew. It didn’t even seem worth it. 

When Glenn’s scattered applause died down and the awkwardness in the room got too much to bear, Beth grabbed her guitar by the neck and slunked off of the stool without grace or even purpose. She made it just the few extra steps once she got to the stage to a sofa that was positioned in the corner of the lounge, adjacent to the bar. The thought was that Beth could take a few minutes to come down from whatever it was that she was feeling, and then remedy it with a few cold beers. At this point, it couldn’t hurt. 

She looked over to Glenn briefly, who was deep into conversation with a man on the other side of the bar, although he had his eyes fixed on Beth. When he noticed she was looking, he gave a friendly smile and motioned for her to come join him and his friend. With a light exhale and an expressive frown, Beth shook her head. She pointed the the couch and put her hands together under her head to mime sleeping, in an attempt to convey that she wanted to rest for awhile. Glenn, bless his heart, smiled at Beth again and nodded, giving her another thumbs up from across the buzzing lounge. 

It felt good, if only for a moment, to rest her head and close her eyes, letting the buzz of the many voices wash over her, lulling her into a numb, non-existent state of mind. 

“I’m in.” 

The voice, loud and close, startled her, and she whipped her head up in surprise. 

A man towered above her, obviously very drunk. Beth was taken aback by the fact that even though he was dressed in nice, expensive clothing, it was rumpled and torn, and his thick brown hair unruly; it made him appear dirty, even if he was most likely fine. Despite the off-putting, “homeless” vibe the man was giving off, Beth couldn’t help but be drawn to him. His eyes, a solid blue with clouds of grey, offered a contradiction to his demeanor. His eyes, soft and gentle, were enough to throw any first impressions or assumptions out of the window. 

Beth blinked as her mind tried to process what the man had said, and take in the rest of him at the same time. 

“What?”

“I wanna make records with you. I wanna produce you, to sign you. We were meant to work together.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Daryl Dixon, Distressed Records,” the man said, handing her a card that reiterated the same information in official-looking print. 

Beth’s mind did a double take, not processing the name and title she just heard. Distressed Records. The man was a music producer, at an actual well known label. And he wanted to work with Beth. 

Her first instinct was excitement. At one point in her life, not too long ago, making music was her dream. Ever since she was a little girl, she was writing little songs and performing them for her dad and her sister, with dreams of someday becoming a big recording artist. An actual contract was her ultimate goal, and here she was being offered it, in real life. 

The excitement was soon after followed by a more realistic feeling of disbelief. Her performance tonight was messy, her music overpowered by emotions that had been building up ever since Jimmy broke her heart. The audience was overall uninterested, and the whole performance just felt off. There was no way any music producer with any sort of talent or validity would be interested in the music Beth performed tonight. 

With her mind now thinking realistically, Beth was able to give Daryl a proper response. 

“Didn’t you just see what happened up there?”

Daryl shrugged, not phased by Beth’s scepticism. “You just need to work on your performance a little bit.”

“I’m not a performer,” Beth shook her head. “I just write songs from time to time.”

“Are those songs as good as that one?” 

Beth considered Daryl Dixon for a moment. A drunk man who claims to want to sign her onto a huge record label. The likelihood was so slim, she felt she had to question the situation again.

“Are you really an A&R man?” Beth raised an eyebrow. “You kinda look more like a homeless man.”

“I’ve been out celebratin’. We just signed a band and got carried away,” Daryl paused, and started talking again after taking in Beth’s telling glare. “Thats some song you’ve got there. I promise you it could be a big hit. Plus, you’re pretty.”

“Sorry, what does beauty got to do with anything?” Beth answered quickly, realizing this might be where this all came from. 

Daryl chuckled, which was not in the least the response Beth was expecting. “Jesus, you’re tricky aren’t you?

“No, I actually just think that music is about ears, not eyes,” Beth stood up suddenly, turning to look the man in the face. “And I’m not Judy Garland just off a Greyhound bus looking for stardom, but really, thank you.”

Daryl stared at her for a few seconds, before shrugging and turning around to walk away. “Okay, bye.”

“Bye,” she muttered to no one as she watched Daryl disappear into the growing crowd in the center of the bar. She looked back down at the business card in her hand, thumbed over the name with a perplexed pout, before tucking it in her back pocket. 

Beth didn’t stay too long after Daryl left. She wandered over to the bar and contemplated ordering a drink, but something stopped her. She felt oddly shaken after that encounter. The confusion and shock was a welcome change from the numbness she had been feeling all week, however. She didn’t need alcohol to interfere with that. 

After fifteen minutes or so of sitting at the bar listening to a drunk man sing the worst cover of “Wonderwall” Beth had ever heard in her life, Beth decided it was time to leave. She stood up, tossed her guitar strap around her shoulder, and made a beeline to the exit, making a mental note to text Glenn, who was still in the same corner in deep conversation with his friend, that she decided to head out early. He would understand.

Stepping out into the still-bright New York streets should have felt refreshing. The air was cool, the sky clear, the stars bright. It was in every way an ideal night to be in the Big Apple. But in the muddled mess that was Beth’s mind, everything felt dull and cold. Outside was no better than inside. She just wanted to be home. 

The subway station she needed to get to wasn’t more than a block away, and Beth didn’t hesitate to start toward it. Before she could, however, she felt a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. She spun around in surprise to see Daryl in front of her again, eyes wide and urgent. He spoke right away. 

“Okay, here’s the truth. I couldn’t have signed you if I wanted to.”

“Okay…” Beth trailed, confusion setting in strong. 

“I didn’t come from a signing tonight. I haven’t signed anybody in seven years. My label has lost all faith in me.”

“So why did you give me your card?” Beth asked, with a frown. 

“Force of habit. If I look homeless, its because I practically am. I left my home about a year or so ago. I’m sleeping on a shitty mattress in some shitty apartment. And I wasn’t celebrating tonight. I was drinking my ass off, standing on a subway platform ready to kill myself. And then I heard your song. Want to get a beer?”

Beth blinked at Daryl a couple of times, and spoke out of instinct, before she could think anything of it. 

“Sure.”


End file.
